


Love Is to Die

by ominous_softie



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus Hargreeves-centric, M/M, Pain, Period-Typical Homophobia, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:26:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25738015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ominous_softie/pseuds/ominous_softie
Summary: Drabble set after THAT scene in s2 e4.Klaus thinks about Dave.
Relationships: Dave/Klaus Hargreeves
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	Love Is to Die

I'm not alive, I'm not alive enough  
I'm not alive, I'm not alive enough  
Go on, go on

Love is to die, love is to not die, love is to   
dance  
Love is to dance

-Love is to Die, Warpaint 

Klaus knew pain. He had always known pain. Since the day he was born, ghosts terrorised him, begging for help, reaching for him. The dead were not bound by the restraint of the living, they were shells of themselves, faded and eroded, hurling all the words and pain they felt at the young medium. He felt it all.

Then, the training and the missions, the physical pain of a human body under stress. He was used to far greater physical wounds than a single punch. A childhood of violence and blood desensitised him.

The berating from his father, the dissapointment of his siblings as he sucumbed to the drugs, a harsh, unloving life on the streets. This was Klaus's emotional pain. The armour he built protected him from it. Faux confidence and apathy pathed his way through it. He built up an immunity.

And then, Dave. The one person he loved more than himself. The sacrifice of military service for the euphoria of loving and being loved. And then the loss of it. That was the truest pain. The deepest. He could sink into it and never stop sinking. The pain of losing what you once had; what you felt so strongly. The potency of his love . His father had never loved him, and the love was never returned. But Dave? To love someone so deeply you would abandon everything to be with him? Thats what really killed Klaus. The one who he loved and who loved him in return, ripped away from him; that feeling like Klaus's skin and flesh was being torn off of him and shredded in the jaws of the black wolf. 

The wolf got hungry again. It came back for more, in a restaurant in Dallas, Texas, 1963. It sunk it's fangs into Klaus once again. The punch didn't physically hurt anymore than any other he had recieved in his life. And yet Klaus felt his skin torn from him again. He wasn't angry at Dave. He could never be. The opressive southern 60s homophobia that suffocated Dave, Klaus could understand that. The hiding; shaking in fear of being revealed. A part of yourself others saw as monsterous yet weak. 

But this was Klaus's love. His beating heart. Klaus left the restaurant not only with a split lip, but a coldness enveloping him; chilling him to the bone; seeping through. He closed his eyes, and saw Dave. 1968, A Shau Valley, Vietnam. The brightest smile, the warmest eyes. He could feel the phantom of Dave's hand carressing his cheek gently. Could hear the soft sleepy lull of his voice as he told Klaus of his past and of the future he hoped for. The one he never got. 

Blood dripped from his lip and down his chin. He reached into his shirt, pulling out Dave's dog tags. He cluthed at them desperately. Would it be enough to save Dave? Was it even possible? Would it matter if he did, or would this young Dave never even meet him? Would this wolf ever release its grip?

He knew in Vietnam he would die for Dave. Could he live for him instead? Everyday without him felt like death. But he was so so alive. Dave was the dead one, the Dave he loved. The one that could neber return to the land of the living. What if this love for him, what if all he could do for Dave, was to dance between life and death? The pain of life felt awfully like the pain of death. And he felt both. Klaus had died before. 3 years ago. Or in 56 years time, on the floor of a night club. It had hurt less than this.

The wolf clung tight. Klaus knew how to subdue it, for a time at least. He knew it well. If sobriety was the frog, Klaus was the scorpion. They would drown together. He dragged himself up. He trudged further and further away from Dave. He wandered the streets. He wiped the blood off his chin. He opened the door to the liquor store.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading


End file.
